


A Chance Encounter

by Dorktastic_N7



Series: Disarm Me [1]
Category: The Musketeers (2014)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-22
Updated: 2020-11-30
Packaged: 2021-03-10 03:55:06
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,069
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27667105
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dorktastic_N7/pseuds/Dorktastic_N7
Summary: Aramis just wanted to drown the memories of Savoy in good wine. What he got instead was something much different.Lady Vivienne d'Evreux has always played it safe. But what happens when a chance encounter with a charming drunk Musketeer turns her world upside down?
Relationships: Aramis - Relationship, Aramis | René d'Herblay/Original Female Character(s)
Series: Disarm Me [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2033206
Comments: 3
Kudos: 9





	1. A Chance Encounter

**Author's Note:**

> Literally just a little prologue to a story I'm working on. I've been watching The Musketeers and holy shit! How have I not seen this show before now???

The grand ballroom, the largest and most ostentatious room at Louvre Palace, was filled to bursting with excitement. With their overly coiffed hair and large gowns, the many guests nearly tripped over each other to catch a glimpse of the main attraction. King Louis XIII and Queen Anne of Austria swayed slowly in the center of the ballroom, appearing to all the nobility of France as a perfectly happy couple.

Lady Vivienne Marie d’Evreux, of course, knew better. She had been at the Queen’s side for almost a year now, serving as her Lady-In-Waiting and close confidant. Vivienne knew many secrets about the young Monarchs, as did Lisette, another of the Queen’s ladies and Vivienne’s current annoyance.

“How can he parade her Majesty around after such a terrible tragedy,” Lisette scoffed as they watched the king dip Anne dramatically, “Has he no sympathy?”

It was true, the Queen had lost a child not a fortnight ago. The third, since their marriage, Anne had told her in private. But the decision the appear tonight had been the Queen’s, and Vivienne agreed with her reasoning.

“The Queen would not have her King celebrate the anniversary of their union alone,” Vivienne said as she downed another glass of wine, “even under such circumstances.”

“Even so, he could have skipped the dance,” Lisette chided, “She looks faint.”

The music swelled as the other guests took to the dance floor. After a moment, the King switched partners, and Anne excused herself to a nearby chair. Lisette rushed to her Queen’s side, of course, making her exit more obvious. Anne gave her a chastising look before succumbing to the older woman’s coddling. It was at this moment that Vivienne chose to slip away for a bit of peace and quiet.

She soon found herself wandering through the lush gardens, letting the cool night air clear her mind. After a while, she took a break by the fountain, the sound of the water drowning out her thoughts. When she glanced at her reflection in the water, Vivienne was startled to see a handsome stranger staring back at her. She let out a gasp and whirled around to face the man.

“I am terribly sorry, Mademoiselle,” The man said in a soft yet slurred voice, “I did not mean to frighten you.”

“Then what are you trying to accomplish by slinking about in the dark, Monsieur?” Vivienne asked breathlessly as she took in the sight of him.

He wore simple leathers bearing the King’s seal, with a blue sash at his waist and a comically large hat. He had high cheekbones, offset by his tailored goatee and tanned skin. His deep brown eyes studied her as she straightened her skirts. When she finally tore her gaze from his face, she noticed he carried a half-empty bottle in his hand.

“Have you had your fill of wine and decided to drown your sorrows in the fountain instead?”

He chuckled at that and shakily bowed to her, “I am Aramis, of the King’s Musketeers, and I was simply enjoying the night air with a beautiful woman.”

“I see,” Vivienne continued innocently as he moved closer to her, “And what does this woman look like? Perhaps I have seen her.”

Aramis blinked at her before a sly grin spread across his face, “Well, she is a rather unique beauty. With golden hair and eyes like ripe pears.”

“Pears?” Vivienne repeated dumbly, “Is that the best you could do?”

“I happen to like pears,” Aramis defended as he closed the gap between them, “And I believe I may like you as well.”

“You don’t even know my name,” Vivienne protested, taking a step backward.

Aramis’s grin widened, and he again closed the distance. “But I do, Aphrodite.”

“Not quite, but do go on.”

“Angelica.”

“Why? Because I’m so Angelic?”

They continued in this manner for a few minutes. With every step Aramis took towards her, Vivienne took a step back. It was a game now, and neither party was used to losing. Finally, at the fifth name, he let out a frustrated growl.

“Fine, how about Marie?”

“That’s my middle name,” She admitted as she felt her leg meet the cold fountain, “But I suppose it’s close enough.”

“Not quite,” He whispered as his eyes flicked from her eyes to her lips and back again, “I believe we could be closer still.”

Her heart was fluttering in her chest as he leaned closer, his hand finding its way to her lower back. It was the perfect moment, and so like Vivienne to have it perfectly ruined. Just as his lips brushed hers, Aramis lost his balance, and suddenly, the world was upside down.

“What in blazes is going on out here?”

Vivienne did her best to remove herself from the fountain with what little pride she had left. The owner of the voice, an older man she knew as Captain Treville, held her hand as she stepped onto the path again. Aramis, to his credit, had turned just in time to cushion her fall, so only her feet were damp. Aramis, on the other hand, was now soaking wet and sputtering as a large man pulled him from the water.

“Now what did you do that for, Aramis,” The man asked through a laugh, “You know we don’t take our bath till next week.” Aramis simply groaned as his head lolled to one side.

“Porthos, please,” Captain Treville chastised before returning his attentions to Vivienne, “My apologies, Lady d’Evreux, I will see to it that this Musketeer is punished for such foolery.”

“It’s quite alright, Captain,” Vivienne assured him as a second man appeared by Porthos and grabbed Aramis under the arm, “Just please be sure he doesn’t hurt himself tonight?”

“We’ll do our best, Madame. I hope this hasn’t soiled your evening.”

With that, the Captain bid his farewells before the three men carted the now unconscious Aramis away. Vivienne was alone again with her thoughts. Her fingers found their way to her lips as she mulled over the details of the evening. She was so distracted, she didn’t hear Lisette calling for her until the older woman grabbed her by the shoulder

“Vivienne, what on earth happened to you? And look at your dress!” The woman continued her fussing as she led Vivienne back to the palace. All the while, she thought of the handsome stranger and their almost kiss.

* * *

Back at the Garrison, Porthos deposited Aramis’s unconscious body unceremoniously in his cot. Athos, who had been tasked with carrying the man’s weapons and hat, sighed in exasperation behind him.

“What are we going to do about him?”

“Don’t know if there is anything we could do,” Porthos answered as they left their friend to sleep off his drink, “I’ve never seen him like this.”

“It’s been a year today, since Savoy,” Captain Treville commented from the end of the hallway, “Perhaps the memories were too much.”

The two friends shared a look before falling into silence. Twenty good men had died that day, and only Aramis had survived. He didn’t like to talk about it, so they never asked. Perhaps they should have.

“You think he’ll remember anything in the morning?” Porthos asked with a mischievous grin.

“Considering he drank half the wine in Paris, I think not.” Athos answered as the sun began peeking its way over the horizon, “It’s a new day. I get the oddest sensation that something has just been set into motion.”

“Oh yeah? Like what?”

“I’m not sure, but I feel it has something to do with that woman.”

“Where Aramis is concerned, it’s always about a woman."


	2. A Wild Ride

In spring, the French countryside was, in Aramis’s humble opinion, the most beautiful place on earth. With its sprawling forests and rolling meadows of wildflowers, you could truly lose yourself in the peace and quiet. Unfortunately, the life of a Musketeer rarely afforded him such luxuries, and today was no exception.

“How much further? My ass is falling asleep.” Porthos bellowed, effectively breaking the comfortable silence the three men had been sharing.

“We will be back in Paris before nightfall,” Athos answered from the lead, “Just in time for Sarge’s dinner.”

“Cabbage stew again, no doubt,” The larger man grumbled as he repositioned himself in his saddle, “Could we at least take a break?”

Athos looked to the sun and then back at his tired friends, “Half an hour, then we keep going.”

Just as they moved off the main road, hooves' pounding drew their attention to the tree line. Suddenly, a large white horse came bursting through the trees ahead of them. The animal was terrified, kicking at whatever was pursuing it as if it were the devil himself. A young man, barely in his teens, was bent low over the pommel.

Aramis was the first to react, spurring his own horse forward while reaching for a rope from his saddlebag. The other two men were hot on his heels, breaking off on either side to cut off the animal’s escape.

Before long, the rope had been secured, and the animal calmed enough for the men to get a better look at its rider. As Aramis drew near, he could see blood coating the young man’s shirt. As he reached across to help steady the horse, he saw that the boy’s eyes had already gone cold.

Athos pulled up beside him, his head swiveling to search for any unseen threat, “Is he dead?”

“Yes, God rest his soul,” Aramis answered as he closed the boy’s eyes, “It would appear the horse is not his own.”

When Athos gave him a look, Aramis pointed to the livery on its flank. A white dove over a river, not one Aramis immediately recognized. Athos must have because his eyes grew wide before turning back to the tree line.

“We must find its owner,” He said before turning his attention back to the dead boy, “We will find out who did this.”

Before any objections could be made, the sound of musket fire tore across the sky. Porthos and Athos jumped into action, spurring their horses towards the noise. Meanwhile, Aramis tied the horse to a nearby tree. He made sure to secure the boy’s body to the pommel before giving a silent prayer. It was the least he could do before he too, barreled off into the fray.

* * *

Vivienne was beginning to wonder just how wrong one day could go. First, she had a massive fight with her estranged father, then her carriage had broken down. Now, she was being attacked by brigands. All things considered, it was a very low day indeed.

“We are surrounded Madame,” Jon Luc, her loyal butler bellowed from the safety of the cab, “Perhaps they would negotiate if-”

“Not likely,” She answered as she rose to return fire, “They are more apt to just gut me right here. Besides, you know my father would never pay a ransom.”

Vivienne ducked down again, swapping her spent pistol out for the reloaded one Jon Luc gave her. The older man was breathing hard, having been thrown from the carriage when the wheel caught on a hole. She hoped the dark stain on his tunic was from his fall and not something worse.

“Surely Pierre found someone on the road,” He said, interrupting her thoughts, “We must only hold on until help arrives.”

“I fear the only help we will receive is from above.”

No sooner had the words left her lips, one of the brigands rounded the overturned carriage. Vivienne barely had time to defend herself before the man’s knife found its mark. Suddenly, a shot rang out behind them, and the man fell dead at her feet. She whirled around to see where the shot had come from and almost didn’t believe her eyes. A man on horseback stood atop the hill, aiming a long musket at the now-dead brigand. His blue cloak flowed behind him, reminding her of a winged angel.

“Not exactly what I meant, but I’ll take it,” Vivienne mumbled, nodding her thanks before returning her attention to the fight, “Jon Luc, reload!”

Between shots, she saw two other men in similar clothing fighting on her side, and they could not have been more different. One was lean with a dark disposition. He wielded a rapier with grace and precision as he took on three men at once. The other was a broader man of darker complexion and a toothy grin plastered to his face. He was currently wielding a broken tree branch as an improvised weapon, much to his enemies' dismay.

The mysterious marksman had disappeared in the fray, but she could still hear him. He made quick work of the bolder brigands who attempted to advance on the carriage. It wasn’t until the dust finally settled that Vivienne finally recognized her saviors, and she had to smile at the irony.

“It seems I owe my life to the King’s Musketeers,” Vivienne began breathlessly as she dusted off her now ruined dress, “It is good to see you again, Gentlemen.”

“Lady d’Evreux,” Porthos exclaimed as he rounded the carriage, wrapping her in a bear hug, “I should’ve known that was you from all that shooting.”

“It would seem trouble follows you almost as closely as us,” Athos said with a smirk, “It is good to see you well.”

“For the moment, thanks to you three,” Vivienne admitted before nodding back to the carriage, “Jon Luc got the worst of it, but he’s still breathing. I’m just glad Pierre found you in time.”

The two men shared a look but said nothing as Aramis rode up beside them. Athos nodded to the carriage, and he quickly dismounted, bandages at the ready for his patient. Porthos was concentrating very hard on a puddle, pointedly ignoring Vivienne’s questioning stare.

“What happened here?” Aramis asked as he began his examination.

“We were headed back to Paris when the carriage tipped,” Vivienne answered, gesturing absently to the now splintered wood, “We had barely settled when the brigands attacked. I sent my stableboy for help… did he not send you?”

The men shifted awkwardly in silence before Athos cleared his throat, “We did come across a young man, maybe fifteen years old, on a white horse.”

“He’s dead, isn’t he?” When Athos simply nodded, Vivienne sucked in a breath, “Was it… how?”

When neither of them answered, she turned to Aramis, who sighed before standing to meet her watery eyes, “He was shot in the heart. It would have been over quickly. I am sorry.”

“Thank you, Aramis,” Vivienne said reflexively before turning her head to the last place she’d seen the boy, “This is all my fault.”

* * *

Porthos and Athos had busied themselves with collecting the dead. Jon Luc had been patched up and sent for Pierre’s body. This left Aramis to examine Vivienne’s injuries in privacy. She had a few scrapes and bruises that would heal on their own, but the cut on her arm needed attention.

“You were fortunate, Madame,” Aramis commented quietly as he cut open her sleeve to get at the wound, “It's not too deep. You may not even need me to sew it.”

“Well, it was either my arm or my throat,” Vivienne countered roughly before adding, “Thank you, by the way. If you hadn’t shown up when you did.”

“You seemed to be getting on pretty well on your own,” He chuckled before turning serious, “This will hurt, I’m sorry.”

To his surprise, she barely flinched as the alcohol poured across her lightly freckled skin. Aramis examined the cut and confirmed his earlier statement, the cut would not need stitching. However, she was trembling under his touch and had a light blush in her cheeks. Aramis had to resist the urge to tease her about her chasteness.

“You don’t remember me at all, do you?” She asked quietly as she watched him gently apply the bandage. When he didn’t answer, she shifted uncomfortably, “Not surprising, I suppose. You were horridly drunk if I recall correctly.”

“Drunk?” Aramis balked, finally looking her in the eye, “Madame, I assure you. If we had met, I would remember it. I have never been that drunk.”

“Ha! You were that night,” Porthos barked nearby.

“Does everyone remember this supposed meeting?” Aramis asked, glancing between his two friends.

“Well,” Athos commented dryly, “You did try to drown the poor woman.”

“That’s not quite how it happened,” Vivienne interrupted, feeling slightly protective of her rescuer, “It was dark. He tripped, and the fountain just happened to be behind us.”

Aramis gawked at her. His mind racing to find a shred of the night she remembered so well. And then it hit him. Memories of pain and snow, a party he wished he could leave, too much wine, and her. He had just polished off the bottle when he saw her leaning against the fountain.

“You,” He whispered as he took an involuntary step towards her, “I said your eyes-”

“Looked like pears, yes,” She finished for him before grinning mischievously, “You never did guess my name, did you?”

He did not know what came over him, but Aramis was grinning too now, “Are you sure it’s not Aphrodite?”

“Oh, for heaven’s sake,” Athos groaned behind them as Porthos doubled over laughing, effectively ruining the moment.

“Well, I suppose a proper first impression should be made,” Aramis announced. Ever the gentleman, he stood at attention and bowed to her, “I am Aramis of the King’s Musketeers. But you knew that already, Madame.”

“Vivienne,” She offered softly before adding, “I trust you will escort me safely back to Paris?”

“Of course,” Aramis chuckled as he offered her his arm, “These two can handle things from here.”

“Oi! That’s a fine way to treat your friends,” Porthos complained, but it was too late. Aramis helped Vivienne onto his horse, and the two were off without another word.

“Now,” Athos said from his kneeled position by the cart, “Perhaps we can get to the bottom of all this.”

Porthos looked at him puzzled before taking in the state of the carriage wheel. The wood had broken apart and splintered across the path. To anyone else, it would have seemed an accident. But the straight marks on the shafts were too clean to be a break.

“Someone didn’t want Lady d’Evreux to make it to Paris.”


End file.
